


Some Things Never Change

by the_painless_moustache



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, FTM Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Masturbation, Sterek comes in at the end, Universe switching, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:26:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in the wrong body in the wrong universe, where: 1. his mother is alive; 2. he apparently has a drug problem; 3. his best friend hates him; and probably most notably 4. he has a penis</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Never Change

**Author's Note:**

> So I started a prompt that asked for FTM Stiles who gets hit by magic and turned into a real boy, and the spellcaster is confused because that was not the purpose of the spell. Somehow we ended up here. There isn't really a whole lot of Sterek in it, except for the end. Most of it is Stiles figuring out what the hell to do.

Stiles is used to waking up and feeling out of place in his skin. Sure, it's his skin and all but the boobs jiggle weirdly and he feels too exposed between his legs. If he could sleep with a binder and a packer, he would, but he can't so he's used to waking up that way.

 So when he wakes up minus boobs plus penis it's a little disconcerting.

 His first reaction is to touch himself, because even though it looks connected it doesn't seem like it should actually be his. The moment his fingertips hit it, though, he jumps because it is _definitely_ his and attached.

 "Dad!" he yelps, pulling his underwear back up and jumping out of bed. "Dad, something weird's going on!"

 He runs out and straight into his mother.

 She grabs his arms, staring at him like _he's_ the one that's been dead for eight years. "Hey, it's okay." she soothes, wiping at the tears apparently falling from his eyes. "It's okay. It was just a dream, honey."

 "A dream?" he croaks.

 "Here, count with me." she raises his hand between them, touching each finger as she counts. "One, two, three, four, five. Five fingers means you're awake, remember?"

 He checks his other hand, nodding dumbly. "Right. Five means I'm awake."

 "Okay." She smiles and runs a hand over his hair. "It's still early if you want to go back to sleep."

 "No!" She stares at him, surprised. "I mean, it's—I'm okay. I just need to...I think I'm going to take a shower."

 "Okay." she agrees slowly. "Don't use all the hot water, though. I need to take one, too."

 "I won't." He throws his arms around her, holding her tight. She smells just like he remembers. "I won't, Mom."

 "Are you sure you're alright, honey?"

 "I'm good." he croaks. "I'm okay." When he let's go, he runs into the bathroom, not giving her a chance to see him cry again. He's overwhelmed and confused and he needs to talk to Scott or Deaton or _someone_. But he takes a shower first because it's the only thing he can do without tipping off his mom— _his very much alive mom_ —to something.

 It gives him time to get used to his body, too. It's a lot like the one he had before, but a little less soft. He'd always been skinny, but he'd had a hint of curves to soften him up. Now his hips are narrower and there's hair where he was sure there hadn't been and his shoulders are broader. He keeps knocking into things, unused to himself, and even though it's annoying at first at some point he can't stop laughing about it. Because this is everything he's ever wanted. He can't count the number of times he's wished to just wake up in the right body, and now that he has he can't control it.

 When he's dressed he wanders the halls and looks at the family photos that hadn't been there before. Trips he doesn't remember taking and school photos of him as a boy all the way back to kindergarten. No awkward braids or dresses that make him wonder what he might've looked like if he'd been born in the body to match his gender.

 His mom is reading in the kitchen when he enters. She looks up to smile at him. "Feel better?"

 "Yeah." he sighs. "So, uh, how'd you sleep? You know, before I woke you up."

 She sighs, shutting her book. "Okay, kiddo. What's up with you?"

 "With me? Nothing."

 "Do we need to talk about something?"

 "What? No. Nothing."

 She gives him a look he recognizes from the mirror. It's the look that says _you aren't fooling anybody_.

 "Seriously. I'm great. More than great. I—I haven't felt this good in a long time."

 Her face softens then. "I'm glad to hear that. Really." It's an awkward couple of minutes of silence before she stands up. "I'm going to take a shower. Please eat some breakfast today."

 "Sure." he agrees easily, leaning into the peck she places on his cheek. She gives him an odd look before walking away.

 He takes the opportunity to get to know his house again. It's cleaner and brighter, for sure, now that there's someone who takes care of it. There's a set of unfamiliar keys sitting in a bowl on the kitchen counter, but a peak outside reveals nothing except that the lawn needs to be mowed.

 After he re-familiarizes himself with the place, he follows his mother's instructions and makes breakfast. He's almost finished with his third bowl of cereal when she comes back into the kitchen in scrubs. It's a sight that he only barely remembers, back when he was young enough he didn't care what his mom wore.

 "You have counseling today, remember." she throws out absently, searching through the cabinets for something.

 "Counseling?"

 She sighs. "I don't know why we keep a calendar in this house if you don't look at it. Yes, Stiles, you have counseling today after school."

 "Oh. Okay." he agrees. "Right. Sorry, I—yeah."

 "You're _sure_ you don't want to talk about anything?"

 "No. No, I'm okay."

 She nods slowly. "Alright."

 "I think I'm going to go to school early." he suddenly decides, jumping up. "I remembered some homework that I forgot."

 She purses her lips. "Alright, I'll take you."

 "It's okay, I can take myself."

 She raises an eyebrow. "You're going to walk to school?"

 Though he really doesn't want to, it wouldn't hurt to clear his mind and get some time to sort himself out. So he nods. "Yeah, I am. I—I think I need the fresh air."

 "Okay. Remember to go to counseling."

 "I will!" he promises, kissing her cheek and heading towards the door.

 "Um, Stiles?"

 He turns. "Yeah?"

 She points to a backpack. "Don't you need that for school?"

 He laughs nervously, grabbing it and saluting her. "Right. Sorry. See you tonight!"

 He's out the door before she can question it. He digs through his bag while he walks the familiar route to Scott's house, finding a set of keys but no phone. It must still be in his room. There's a lot of crumpled paper and a couple of books, but there's also a weird smell to it that he feels like he should probably recognize but doesn't.

 When he gets to Scott's, he doesn't even think before trying to open the door. Only it's locked, which wouldn't usually keep him out but it makes him feel uncomfortable here. So instead he knocks.

 Scott answers the door looking sleepy and a lot younger. When he sees Stiles he frowns. "What do you want?"

 "I thought we could go to school early." he says, shrugging. "But I see you aren't quite all here yet, so I can wait. I actually would kind of like to—"

 "What?"

 Stiles blinks at him, at the utter confusion and slight fear on his face. "I...thought we could go to school early?" he tries again.

 "Like, _together?_ Why? I don't have any money."

 Stiles gapes at him. "Why the hell would that matter for school?"

 "Look, I told you, okay? I can't be around you if you're going to be doing stupid shit. You made it pretty clear what mattered more to you."

 "I did?"

 "Are you seriously high right now? It's not even 7:30 and you're already high. That's got to be a new record."

 And that's when he recognizes the smell. His backpack smells like pot. "I'm not high." he says quietly. "I'm—I'm trying to figure some things out, and...and I can't think of anyone else who can help me."

 "Try Jackson."

 " _Jackson?_ " Stiles chokes, but Scott doesn't answer. He's too busy slamming the door in Stiles' face.

 Stiles flounders for a minute before turning away. He obviously has some major catching up to do.

***

 Stiles finds his answers in his student file. For all that's different in this world, his ability to sneak past the secretary has not. Of course, he can't do it alone, but Scott won't even look at him so he listens to the only advice he was given and goes to Jackson.

 Jackson doesn't seem to like him much, but he doesn't hate him either. He narrows his eyes when Stiles asks him to help him sneak into the records room but then shrugs and agrees as long as Stiles bumps his math grade to a B minus to impress Lydia.

 So Jackson distracts the secretary and Stiles sneaks into the records room and finds the hard copy of his file.

 It's a lot thicker than he remembers, and his other one hadn't been a light read.

 This one has multiple suspensions, and his grades are just barely passing. He doesn't have any drug issues, but he got caught smoking on campus. The idea makes his mouth taste bad. He finds his counselors address in the file, too, and copies it down because any other answers he needs, that's where he'll find them.

 He's not popular by any means. He goes through the entire day by coasting, and no one seems to notice anything's wrong. So apparently his association with Jackson is no more than a means to an end. He doesn't seem to have a single friend in the entire building, so he has zero chance to probe them for information on what the hell is going on in his life.

 Heading to counseling doesn't go much better. A few people see him on the street and tense up, looking suspicious, which means he probably wronged them somehow. When he enters the building, the woman at the front desk narrows her eyes and says "Please just sit down."

 The woman who comes for him is sadly too familiar.

 "Hello, Stiles." Ms. Morrell greets, smiling her soft but untrustworthy smile. "I'm glad to see you today."

 "I'm actually really glad to be here." Stiles admits as he stands and follows her back.

 They sit in silence while she glances through her file for him—also too thick for his comfort—and then she sits back and crosses her hands over his lap. "How are you today, Stiles?"

 "It's been a weird day." he says carefully. "I had a—a nightmare, last night."

 "About your father?" she guesses.

 He stills a little bit. "I don't really remember."

 She nods. "So you didn't sleep well?"

 "I just woke up kind of early."

 "Did you take anything the night before?"

 "Like what?"

 She shrugs. "Like the sleeping pills? Or something else?"

 He sighs, sitting forward. "Okay, look. You're either going to believe me or commit me, and I'm not so sure which one I'd rather have. I woke up today in the wrong universe."

 She blinks at him. "The wrong universe?"

 "Yesterday I was a trans dude in a werewolf pack. Today I'm a cis dude who apparently has a drug problem and no friends. And my mom..." He catches himself on that, unable to really believe it despite the fact he'd just seen her eight hours ago. "My mom is alive here. She'd been dead for eight years yesterday."

 Marin takes a deep breath. "Stiles," she starts carefully. "What you're telling me is some serious stuff. If you've taken something, I need you to be honest with me. There are people who can help you."

 "I haven't. I don't do drugs. But apparently here I do pot and...fuck, I don't know what else. Enough that my best friend hates me and I'm allies with my worst enemy. And I know it sounds crazy, but back in my world you live in the middle of crazy. You and your brother." She stiffens. "Oh, yeah, and I know Alan Deaton is your brother. Or...something."

 Her expression goes from neutral to curious. "So you really are in the wrong universe."

 "You believe me?"

 "I've believed stranger things."

 Stiles feels more relieved than he thought he ever could. Especially around her. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that."

 "I'm not sure how I can help you. Though the existence of multiple universes is generally accepted amongst the supernatural, traversing them is something that remains mysterious. Very few entities are even aware of what capabilities are required to do so."

"Do _you_ know what entities would know?"

 She thinks for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I don't. But Alan might. Or he might at least know someone who does."

 Stiles deflates. "This is sounding like it's going to take a long time."

 "It might."

 "What do I do until then?"

 "You keep a low profile."

 "I don't even know who I am here. Back in my universe, 'low profile' and 'Stiles Stilinski' are antonymous."

 "Lucky for you, you have 45 minutes left with someone who does know who you are here."

 Stiles gapes for a moment. And then he nods and launches into questioning. "So why am I here? In counseling, that is?"

 "You, your mother, and the school came to an agreement. They wouldn't expel you if you agreed to biweekly counseling sessions to deal with your anger and drug use."

 The last speck of hope he had that the drugs were just a wrong conclusions leaves him. "I kind of guessed about the drugs. My backpack reeks of pot."

 "Pot was the least of their worries."

 "But why would I start doing drugs? I was never in that kind of circle in my world. I mean, I did crap there, too, but only because Mom..." he trails off. "Because Mom died. But Mom's alive, and if I'm still...he wasn't there this morning..."

 "Your father died." Marin confirms, sounding surprisingly soft. "He was in a car accident."

 Stiles slumps over. "He's dead?"

 "He died two years ago. That's when this behavior started."

 "What was he—was he working? Was it—how?"

 Marin's silent for a long moment before saying "I'm not sure you want to know."

 "I do." Stiles argues. "I do, I need to—what happened?"

 "You two went to a baseball game. It rained and you hydroplaned. You made it and he didn't."

 "I was _with him?_ " Stiles chokes.

 "You were in the hospital for a long time, and on pain killers after that. I suspect after you ran out you found other ways to medicate. Your grief and guilt manifest themselves in chronic headaches, a physical way for you to deal with it. Doctors stopped prescribing you things on your mother's request, because you were taking more than you should've been."

 "Jesus." Stiles breathes, dropping his head into his hands. "And I thought my other life was shit." Marin let's him absorb in silence, but it still doesn't feel real. Nothing feels real right now, and he's not sure if he should be grateful or not. Finally, he sighs and sits up. "So I keep a low profile?"

 "Yes."

 "Okay."

 She considers him. "Don't get any ideas of finding a way home yourself. You could do irreparable damage to one or both worlds."

 "Right. Don't want to go home and find out that I've turned myself into a dog this time."

 Marin smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I was more thinking the eradication of an entire species, thus changing the entire ecological system of the planet. But yes, turning into a dog would be bad, too."

 He stares at her. "Well, you're just as cryptic as you are back home. Some things never change, I guess."

 "You said you were part of a pack back in your universe? What pack?"

 "Um, well...we were sort of a weird pack." Stiles admits carefully. "Mostly bitten wolves."

 She hums.

 "What about here? Is there a pack here?" He hopes, for a moment, that maybe the Hales lived. That maybe Derek is around and not broken like in his world. That someone, at least, got to have a good life here.

 "Not anymore." Marin murmurs. "Not for a long time."

 "They died here, too?" Stiles asks, shoulders falling. "The Hales...they died?"

 "Most of them. A few survived."

 "Are any of them here now?"

 "I think Derek is the only one left. An omega alpha." Her eyes darken. "Alan and I tried to keep a close eye on him, to make sure he wouldn't go feral, but..." She sighs and shrugs.

 "He's an omega? He hasn't bit anyone?"

 She shakes her head.

 "Have you seen him? He's still here, isn't he?"

 She frowns. "We believe so."

 Stiles jumps up and grabs his backpack. "He'll know what to do." he declares. "He knows all sorts of weird crap. And if he doesn't, there's this—" He cuts himself off, considering the consequences of revealing the vault to Marin. He decides against it. "He'll know." he finishes lamely, nodding.

 "You think he'll have the answers to this?"

 "He's worth asking."

 "And you're just going to go find him?"

 Stiles shrugs. "It wasn't that hard the first time."

***

 It turns out to be much harder the second time. Stiles doesn't have a car, for one, so he has to hike out to the Hale house. All five miles of it. It _sucks_. And then, when he's out there, he finds that the house has been demolished. Young trees are already stretching up from the ground, eager for light and room.

 He stomps around the land for awhile before abandoning that train of thought. Obviously Derek doesn't spend a whole lot of time here. He hikes back into town, to the warehouse Derek had bought. It seems to be more dilapidated, and only inhabited by the homeless people who size him up before he runs off again.

 He tries the old train station, too, but no such luck. He thinks on other places Derek could possibly be, but none come to mind. Except, of course, for the vault. So he hikes back to school just as the sun sets and sits by the sign, waiting.

 The only person who shows up is a police officer. He gets out of the car and sighs, crossing his arms. He's tall, but kind of lean. He has an All-American-Boy vibe about him, hazel eyes and dark blonde hair, and even though he looks forgiving, he seems pretty fed up with Stiles already.

 "Stiles," he starts, confirming that he's familiar with him. "What are you doing?"

 "I don't suppose you'd believe I was waiting for someone."

 "I'd believe it, but I'm not sure I want to know what kind of person _you're_ waiting for."

 "The kind who doesn't like to show up." Stiles sighs, standing and shouldering his backpack. He decides to play into his hunch and asks "Can I get a ride home?"

 The officer raises an eyebrow and then shrugs and opens up the backseat.

 Stiles flops in and doesn't say a word the entire time they drive.

 His mom comes out of the house when the car pulls up and looks out of her mind. Her eyes are shining with disappointment. The officer lets him out and walks him up to the door.

 "Again?" she hisses at him, her bottom lip wobbling.

 "Actually, he just asked for a ride home, Mrs. Stilinski. Wasn't doing anything wrong, except a bit of loitering."

 "That's a public space." Stiles reminds him. "I didn't do anything, Mom."

 This knocks her out of her sadness and into confusion. "You...you're not in trouble?"

 "Nope." the officer confirms. "Have a nice night."

 "Thank you, Parrish." she says absently, like a habit. When his car pulls out, she speaks again. "What were you doing?"

 "I was waiting."

 "For what?"

 "For who, actually." Stiles scuffs his feet and shrugs. "But it doesn't matter. He wasn't around."

 "Were you going to buy more drugs?"

 Stiles looks at her, straight in the eye, and shakes his head. "I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm done with that. I'm done with all of that."

 This bewilders her even more. Then she throws her arms around his neck and holds, breathing shaky sobs into his neck. "There you are. There's my little man."

 Stiles hugs her back, because it's been eight years since he's gotten to.

 That night he sleeps better than he thought he would. He's exhausted from all the walking. But his dreams are still uneasy and he wakes up early and quickly, feeling off-kilter. But he wakes up with the penis still attached, which tells him he's still in the wrong universe.

 He sighs and rolls out of bed, trudging downstairs. It's still early enough not even his mom is awake. He wanders over to the front window and looks out, not really thinking of anything because his brain is not quite awake. That's what he blames, anyway, when it takes him so long to notice the eyes staring back at him.

 He recoils from the window, his heart tripping in his chest. But it's just a dog, blending into the dark street unless Stiles focuses on him. Stiles huffs at himself. "Just as high strung as ever." He taps his fingers on the window sill, and then notices the dog still hasn't stopped staring.

 Without anything better to do, Stiles goes out front and sits on the porch, whistling for the dog. It doesn't seem very impressed. Stiles tries again, holding out a hand. It hesitates, but then stands and eases over to him nervously. Stiles lets him sniff his hand for what seems like forever. And then the dog grumbles at him, not meanly but definitely in warning, so Stiles pulls his hands back. "Whoa, take it easy, dude. Humans are friends, not food."

 The dog stops grumbling, but it doesn't seem amused.

 "Where'd you even come from? None of my neighbors have dogs. Or...okay, not in this universe." Stiles admits, and then feels kind of giddy because the only person he's been able to talk to about this has been behind a closed door, and it wasn't like she was very trustworthy.

 The dog is still standing there, so Stiles sort of word-vomits at him. "You see, I'm not actually from this universe. Like, you could belong to Mrs. Longbore, but in my world she's an angry bird lady. A lot of stuff is different in my world." He sighs, glances back at his house. "Some not so good stuff. But some good stuff, too. Like my best friend. Here, he can't stand me. In my world we're inseparable. Partly because we're the only brothers each other has, but probably also because of the whole werewolf thing."

 The dog snarls, bracing itself on its front feet. Stiles scrambles backwards into the door, holding his hands up. "Whoa! Whoa, what the—" And that's when it clicks. He sits forward a little. "Derek? Is that you? Are you—can you fully transform here?"

 The snarls quiet, but he doesn't look very sure about Stiles. When Stiles doesn't make a move to touch him, he stands straight and flashes red eyes at him.

 Stiles giggles hysterically, and then remembers this Derek doesn't actual know him. "Sorry. I—I'm Stiles. I actually went looking for you and—could you possibly change back? I feel like this conversation would go better if we were both human."

 Derek sits in front of him, looking about as ready to move as a two-ton boulder. Stiles sighs. "Look, I don't belong here. I think you can help me get back, but not if you refuse to be human. I don't have a lot of options here."

 Derek stares at him and then turns around and disappears. Stiles waits for fifteen minutes, but he never comes back.

***

 When a month goes by with no word from Derek, Stiles has pretty much resigned to living out the rest of his life in this backwards universe. Marin and Deaton have no leads so far, and Stiles doesn't have the resources to do his own digging anymore. Scott still hates him, and he can't go to Allison because Scott and her apparently have never dated. She's ended up as some sort of second Lydia, who still doesn't know he exists despite the fact that he and Jackson apparently have some sort of agreement.

 But he's trying, because if he's going to be stuck here, he's not going to be stuck as whatever sucky Stiles was here before. He's going to win back his mom's trust, and Scott's. He's going to fix this.

 Harris doesn't seem to agree with his plan.

 "Would you like your detention slip now, or later?"

 "I haven't done anything wrong!" Stiles argues. "I haven't said anything all week!"

 "Class participation is very important in my class, Mr. Stilinski." Harris says, a slimy grin creeping onto his face.

 Stiles grits his teeth. "Can I make it up somehow?"

 "I'm afraid that, just like in life, there are no redoes here."

 "That's not true."

 Stiles and Harris both turn and gape at Scott, who looks uncomfortable but determined. "You have tons of extra makeup work for kids who miss days or need the grade boost. Stiles deserves a chance just like them."

 Stiles chokes down the tears while Harris seethes. "Mr. McCall, you are budding into something that is none of your business. Mr. Stilinski has had plenty of chances in my class, and I'm afraid—"

 "If you don't give him the makeup work, we'll go to the principal." Scott blurts.

 Harris is a shade of red Stiles has never seen before, and he's visibly shaking. Then he hurriedly fills out two detention slips and hands one to each of them. "For talking back." he snaps at Scott, and then "We'll discuss your makeup work later." to Stiles. Then he points at the door. "Now get out!"

 They both bolt out the door and don't stop running until they're clear of the building itself.

 Stiles grins at Scott. "Thanks, man."

 "Don't mention it." Scott mutters.

 Stiles cautiously touches his shoulder to get his attention. Scott looks at him, but it's a look that screams pain. Like being around Stiles hurts him now. He hates it. "Scott, I—I've done some shitty things, but I'm trying to get better. To be better. I don't want to go down that road, and I definitely don't want to lose my best friend."

 Scott seems hesitant, shuffling from one foot to another and waiting for some sort of punchline. At last, he says "My mom's going to take some major convincing."

 "I'll do as much housework as I need to." Stiles promises.

 Scott nods uncomfortably.

 "I really am sorry." Stiles tells him. "For everything."

 That's the drop of water that breaks the dam. Scott lunges forward and pulls him into the tightest hug a human Scott can give. "I thought I lost you, man." Scott blubbers, not crying but getting awfully close. "I thought I didn't try hard enough, that you weren't ever going to be you again."

 "Hey, some things never change." Stiles assures him.

 Scott pulls back. "We've got a lot of work to do on Mom."

 "Let's go do it then."

 Turns out, a lot of work includes mostly yard work and the longest apology of Stiles life. It's only so long because he has to try and piece together what exactly he'd done to them to make them so mad. It wasn't like he was an angel back home. The specifics are along the lines of stealing Scott's things and even one of Melissa's bracelets to pay for his newfound drug habit. But he apologizes so many times that Melissa eventually has to stop him. Then she hugs him, and he knows it'll be okay.

 His own mother is less than pleased about the detention, but when he explains it she's less pissed. It probably helps a lot that Scott had gotten a detention, too, and that it's from Harris, who is apparently no less of a dick here than he is back home.

 He sleeps well that night. Or, he would've, if he hadn't been woken up by knocking on his window.

 He still gets confused sometimes as to where he is, so he doesn't see a problem in opening the window, glaring at Derek—a human Derek—and muttering "What the hell, dude? I was sleeping."

 Derek's surprise to this reaction is what triggers Stiles into remembering that this Derek is not the Derek that crawls into his room. This Derek has apparently been hiding for a very long time, and knows next to nothing about him.

 Stiles stutters for a moment before apologizing. "Sorry, it's—you do this a lot, in my universe. Reflex."

 Derek considers him and then shrugs. "Whatever."

 His voice sounds gruffer, like he's trying to be tough. Stiles forces himself not to laugh and moves away from the window so he can climb in.

 "You wanted to talk." Derek reminds him, glaring around his room before landing back on him. "So talk."

 "I thought you might know a way to get me home." Stiles admits. "Or know how I could find someone who knows."

 "Why would I know that?"

 "You just know that kind of stuff. I think you have a secret library in the vault, but—"

 "How do you know about the vault?" Derek demands, stepping towards him.

 Stiles holds up his hands. "You showed it to us. We were looking for a bestiary to compare to the one we have. You said there might be one in there."

 "Why would I show that to you? Who _are_ you?"

 Stiles swallows. "I told you. I'm from a different universe."

 "But who are you to me?" Derek demands. "Why would I show you the vault? How do you even _know_ me?"

 "It's kind of a long story."

 Derek growls at him, eyes flashing red.

 Stiles gulps and sits back on his bed. "You, um...you mentored my friend, for awhile."

 " _Mentored?_ "

 "He was bitten. By Peter."

 Derek narrows his eyes. "Peter?"

 "Your uncle." Stiles continues slowly. "You, him, and your sister were the only three to survive the fire. Laura was alpha, and then he killed her. He bit some people, one of which being my friend. You killed Peter and took my friend under your wing or whatever. He was the only one who survived the change."

 Derek considers him for a long, tense minute before he leans back against the wall, crossing his arms so he still looks tough, but apparently in this for the long haul. "I don't mentor people."

 "In my world, you do. In my world, we're pack." He gestures between them. Derek narrows his eyes, and Stiles amends "Or we're close. That's sort of another long story."

 "I've got time."

 Stiles sighs. "I probably shouldn't be telling you all this stuff. I could be doing serious inter-dimensional damage here."

 Derek doesn't look impressed by this concept, but he doesn't push for more answers. Instead, he asks "So what do you expect me to do? You know about werewolves. We're not exactly experts on inter-dimensional travel."

 "I know what you've told me about werewolves." Stiles corrects. "You guys could sprout wings for all I know." Derek's lip at least twitches at that. "Maybe it's different here, but in my world...you're kind of grossly smart about this kind of crap. Which makes sense, because you grew up in it. I have no other leads."

 "And what's so great about being back home?" Derek wonders.

 Stiles blinks. "Sorry?"

 "It sounds like the only difference between here and there is your friend being bitten. As someone who 'grew up in it,'" Stiles scowls at the air quotes. "I'm well aware of the dangers around here for a werewolf. You think I'm hiding for fun?"

 "It wouldn't surprise me." Stiles quips.

 Derek narrows his eyes. "If you were smart, you'd suck it up and accept your fate." he says finally, turning to duck out the window.

 "This isn't my fate!" Stiles snaps, chasing after him. "If you were smart, you'd realize that!" Derek drops off his roof without looking back. Stiles fumes for a moment before hissing " _Dick_." into the darkness. It makes him feel a little better, anyway.

***

 "And then he left."

 Marin considers him for a moment. "It was extraordinary he showed up in the first place. He hasn't shown an interest in this territory for years. The fact that you could draw him out, even just for a few minutes, is impressive."

 "Yeah, sure, but it doesn't help me." Stiles throws up his hands. "I'm still stuck here."

 "He has a point. It doesn't sound like there's much waiting for you back there. The scales seem to have tipped even. Your mother for your father, Scott's humanity for your friendship..." she holds her hands out as if she's weighing her words. "Maybe it is best to just accept this."

 Stiles grits his teeth. "I have to get back. I don't know how I ended up here, but however I did wasn't good. And who is back there, if I'm here? Anybody? This Stiles? I can't have both universes fucked up."

 Marin drops her hands back to her lap and shrugs, apparently indifferent. "If that's what you want."

 "It is."

 "Well, Alan and I still haven't found anything."

 Stiles rolls his eyes, slumping back into the couch. "Of course not."

 "He mentioned the Hales had some knowledge of this sort of phenomenon."

 "Great, you can call on the asshole this time."

 She glares at him. "You're the only one he's spoken to in more than three years."

 "Then I guess I should start working on boosting my GPA." He grabs his backpack and stalks out, waving at the receptionist—who'd forgiven him after a few bouquets of daisies—and stomps back to his house. It's empty, because his mom is at work, but it doesn't bother him as much anymore. He throws his backpack and shoes to the side of the entry way and goes straight to his room, where he throws himself face-first on his bed.

 After a few minutes of wallowing he flips over onto his back and glances down to his crotch. He hadn't really messed with his new dick since the first night. Sure, he'd seen it since, but not in any sort of context like this. Like being home alone and being frustrated and tired. Masturbating back home had always, _always,_ been a necessity. He had needs, sure, but touching himself had been a whole other level of gross for him. He knew some people didn't have problems with it, but he just couldn't do it unless he absolutely needed to.

 He sighs, rolling his eyes at himself. He really shouldn't be making such a big deal out of this. It was just a dick. So he unzips and shoves his pants down.

 He spends an uncomfortable amount of time just looking at it. When he'd watched porn, they'd already been hard. There was no tutorial on how to _get_ hard. He blows out a breath and turns, fumbling through his bedside drawer, where he'd earlier found lube. He slicks some on his hand and then just grabs for it.

 It's weird at first, and then...and then it's still weird, but it's a _good_ weird. It feels good, and there's no grossness. There's just the awkwardness of being highly aware that you had your hand on your dick. He blows out a breath and forces himself to relax, closing his eyes. His mind starts searching, trying to think of something to help him along.

 He settles on the bartender from the Jungle, his usual guilty pleasure. He's an older guy, probably mid-twenties, but he had the most amazing smile. It never failed to make Stiles drool. He imagines that smile aimed at him, that the bartender—he names him Jake, in his head—leans across the bar and makes some sort of cheesy pass at him. He's not really interested in playing hard to get.

 Then they're kissing. Stiles' mind flips for a moment on where they're doing this before settling on outside the bar, Stiles sitting on the hood of his car and Jake leaning over him. He sighs, rolling his hips up into his slick grip while picturing Jake grinding into him.

 He imagines Jake would laugh quietly whenever Stiles whimpers, not really at him but more in joy of knowing he's doing that. Jake leans around to kiss under his ear and whisper _You're so good, Stiles_.

 Stiles is so surprised by the voice he hears that he startles himself into coming. He blinks for a moment at his ceiling and then down at his dick, which is slowing softening and totally slimy. He decides to forget about the voice and instead strips and goes to shower.

 When he comes out, there's a message from Scott on his phone asking if he wants to hang out, which Stiles eagerly snaps up. Anything to avoid thinking about what just happened. But when he gets to Scott's, it's no good. They're connection has survived the test of time, anger, and fucking dimensions. Scott immediately frowns at him. "What's wrong?"

 Stiles shrugs. "Nothing."

 "Yeah, right."

 Stiles shrugs again, but he's not fooling anyone. Even Scott, who is probably the easiest person to fool. He sighs. "Can we not talk about it?"

 Scott's features soften then. "Sure. One evening of avoidance coming right up."

 It's a good evening, as far as evenings of avoidance go. Stiles hardly thinks about the fact he's in the wrong universe, or that he has no idea how to get home, or what kind of hell might be happening back in his world while he's here. He definitely doesn't think about what happened earlier. At all.

 Despite everything that's changed, his ability to lie to himself has not.

 When Melissa gets home she fluffs his hair and kisses Scott on the head and tells them Stiles has to leave at nine, which he does. His mom is watching some Lifetime movie and smiles at him when he walks in. "Hi, sweetie. How was your day?"

 Stiles flops onto the couch next to her. "It was a day."

 "Is Harris giving you a hard time, still?"

 "No more than usual." Stiles shrugs and snags a handful of popcorn. "It was just sort of a long day."

 "Mm."

 "Hey, Mom?"

 "Yeah?"

 "You and Dad didn't always get along, right?"

 "Hardly ever." she chuckles. "We teased each other a lot. It was hard for your father to show emotion. It made him feel awkward. I spent a lot of time teasing him about it. He never said he liked it, but I think it made him feel better to know I understood him even when he couldn't get the words out. And I knew just telling him that would make things awkward, so I had to be sneaky about it."

 Stiles finds himself grinning at her, almost dreamily. "And you complain about me being nothing but snark."

 "It really is our fault." she agrees. "We're a family who shows love by picking on each other. It's not healthy."

 "I think it is."

"Well, you would." she retorts, and then winks at him.

 Stiles leans forward and kisses her cheek before standing. "I've got some homework to check in on."

 "Don't stay up too late." she reminds him.

 "I won't. And, just so there's no confusion," He swoops down and hugs her tightly. "I love you, Mom."

 There's a moment of silence before she wraps her arms around him, too. "I love you, too, Stiles."

 Stiles pulls back and flees to his room, tears stinging at his eyes. It's seconds before he's collapsed on the floor sobbing because there is no happy ending here. He either stays here forever and loses his dad, loses everything he's used to, or he goes home and has to lose his mom all over again.

 He doesn't really get to his homework.

***

 It's a month and a half this time. Then, out of the blue, Stiles stumbles into his room after a long day of school and finds Derek sitting in his desk chair, feet propped on the desk and reading through what looks like Stiles' forgotten English notebook. "What are you doing here?"

 "You use a lot of run on sentences." Derek informs him.

 "I've got ADHD, it comes with the territory." Stiles snaps, taking back his homework. "You didn't answer the question."

 "I gave it some thought. I decided that I could help you."

 "Maybe I don't need your help." Stiles retorts childishly, even though he desperately does.

 Derek's eyebrows go up. "Well, now I'm definitely sure I should help you."

 Stiles glares at him. "What changed your mind?"

 Derek stares at him for a long moment, his aloof facade flickering into something more vulnerable. Then he stands up. "It doesn't matter, does it?"

 "Well, if you decided to help me because you want to murder Scott, then it kind of matters."

 "I'm not going to murder you're friend."

 "I've heard that before." Stiles informs him darkly.

 Derek rolls his eyes. "Just take the help, okay? You want to go home, right? I'm offering you a way to figure out how."

 "What's in it for you?"

 Derek struggles for a long moment before grinding out "Pack."

 "Sorry, what?"

 "You said we were pack, back in your universe. I figure...I figure if there's a version of me somewhere that has a pack, he deserves to keep it intact."

 Stiles stands there, shocked, for way too long before blurting out "Oh."

 "Do you want the help or not?" Derek snaps.

 "Yes. Yes, okay."

 Derek turns and jumps out the window, which leaves Stiles awkwardly running down the stairs and retying his shoes and going after him.

 Since the Derek here has no cool car, it's an awkward walk to the school. Stiles forces himself to keep quiet, and not force any sort of conversation. This isn't his Derek, after all. That thought makes him blush and remind himself that even the Derek back home wasn't his, technically, and then he has to tell himself it was just a figure of speech anyway so it doesn't really—

 "Do I really put up with you back in your universe?" Derek grumbles. "Just being around how high-strung you are is exhausting me."

 "Yeah, you do put up with me. We've even saved each other a couple of times."

 Derek glances at him. "Really?"

 "I held you up in a pool for two hours after you got hit by a kanima while pushing me out of the way."

 Derek considers this silently and then hums thoughtfully.

 The rest of the walk is quiet. When they reach the vault, Derek pops it open and leads him down. Stiles coughs, because it's dustier than before, which is saying something. He fumbles for his phone and turns the flashlight on. Derek doesn't seem to care whether or not he can see and stalks back through the rows of Hale belongings.

 Eventually the dusty smell fades into the dusty smell of books and Derek pauses, raising a hand to brush delicately across a few of the covers. "If there are any answers in here, this is where they'd be." he mumbles.

 Stiles wipes a hand across a cover and reads in his very novice Latin _Bestiary Vol. I_. Looking at the books Derek's looking at, it's easy to see the entire shelf is a collection of bestiaries. Stiles wonders if they're more detailed, or if their own bestiary is just that inadequate. "Holy shit."

 "You better start looking." Derek grunts. "You won't find answers just by staring at them."

 "What, you don't have any suggestions of where to start?"

 "Well, I know you can skip the werewolf passage." Derek drawls.

 "You aren't funny." Stiles snaps at him, grabbing the first book off the shelf and sitting down. The thing is bound in animal skin. Probably human, but he doesn't want to think about it. "God, I wish Lydia was here." he mutters.

 "Who's Lydia?"

 "She reads Latin." Stiles says.

 "And who is she to you?"

 "Good question. I'd like to say friend, but I think we're more allies than anything." Stiles looks through the first few names in what he thinks is a table of contents. "I don't suppose you have a checkout policy on these?" He looks up at Derek and finds him glaring. "Yeah, I didn't think so."

 "Do you have any idea what you're looking for?"

 "I don't think anyone does." Stiles sighs. But he tries to go through the first few pages, using what little Latin had stuck by being around Lydia while she was translating. It's no use though, and Stiles shuts the book. "I won't get any answers from these. Not without an extensive course in Latin. Maybe Marin could—"

 Derek suddenly grabs his arm, eyes wide like a light bulb just lit up and burst in his head. "Marin? Marin _Morrell?_ "

 "Yeah?"

 " _That's_ who you've been talking to about this?"

 "Yeah, so what?"

 Derek doesn't answer. He just snags Stiles' arm and drags him out of the vault and down the street. Stiles asks questions for the first five minutes before giving up and letting Derek drag him wherever he thinks they need to go.

 Where they end up is Deaton's office. He slams in through the back and throws Stiles ahead of him. "Tell him."

 Deaton blinks at Derek, awestruck, and then at Stiles. "Sorry, I'm confused."

 "You and me both." Stiles agrees.

 "Stiles, tell him what you told Marin."

 Deaton's eyes go wide, flicking between them and landing at Stiles again. "You've been speaking with Marin?"

 Stiles frowns. "Well, yeah. About the whole 'wrong universe' thing?" Not a trace of recognition shows. "About me being the wrong Stiles?"

 "Marin's lying to you." Derek fills in. "You shouldn't have trusted her."

 "She's my counselor here." Stiles defends himself. "And she believed me. I was kind of desperate."

 Derek rolls his eyes. "We aren't _blaming_ you, Stiles."

 "My sister is only interested in herself." Deaton adds from where he's digging through a secret stash of magic stuff. "If she's offered to help you, it's only because there's something in it for her."

 "What could she possibly get by helping me get back to my own universe?"

 "Inter-dimensional travel is powerful magic." Deaton says, pulling out a large book and dropping it on the exam table. "If she could find and make allies with an entity cable of such magic—or worse, take that magic as her own—she essentially has the power to write the world however she wants."

 "But why would she do that? She's not exactly an example of selflessness back home, but she's not _evil_."

 Deaton looks at him then, pausing in his scouring of the book. "She isn't evil, here, either. Just jaded."

 "My pack chose Deaton over her for their emissary." Derek explains quietly. "She didn't exactly take it well."

 "Has she mentioned knowing any leads to get you home?" Deaton asks.

 "No. She seemed pretty clueless. She thought Derek might know."

 "The Hales have a very expansive collection in their vault, but in order to access it, she would need the vault opened for her."

 "Shit." Stiles breathes, Derek already running out the door. "Uh, we might've accidentally done that."

 Deaton, a master of mystery and riddles, shuts his book and very succinctly agrees "Shit."

 Derek is pacing around outside the vault when Stiles and Deaton pull up, looking furious. "She took one of the bestiaries."

 "Which one?" Stiles asks.

 Derek stares at him like he's stupid. "You think if I knew that we'd even be in this mess? It's the one we were looking for, with the information we needed."

 Stiles shakes his head. "They were all in alphabetical order. We can take the last entry in the book before it and the first entry in the book after and try and come up with a list of monsters that fill in the space."

 Deaton hums. "It's not a terrible plan."

 "I'm smarter than you give me credit for." Stiles mutters at Derek.

 "Maybe, but if you remember they're all in Latin, which none of us speaks."

 "But I know someone who does." Stiles reminds him. When Deaton and Derek just stare, he shifts uncomfortably. "I just need to convince _her_ of that."

***

 When Stiles sits next to her in the one class they have together, it's like the world flipped on its axis. All the pre-class chatter stops and everyone stares at them. Lydia, for her part, narrows her eyes and taps her nails on her desk. "I need to ask you for a favor." he says quietly.

 She raises her eyebrow. "What makes you think you get to ask me for favors?"

 "I know you're the smartest person here, okay, and I also know you speak Latin."

 Her eyes widen a little. Her fingers stop tapping. "Excuse me?"

 "Look, I don't really want to do this here." he admits. "Just...can you meet me somewhere? I really, _really_ need your help."

 She stares at him for a long, long time before tipping her chin up. "Fine. I'll be at the bleachers during lacrosse practice after school. You can meet me there."

 He sighs, fighting the urge to grab her hand and kiss it. "Thank you. _Thank you_."

 The rest of the day he gets dirty looks from everyone in the school, especially Jackson, who corners him in the bathroom and demands to know why the hell he thought he could talk to his girlfriend. Stiles, in order to protect his face and his secret, tells him that unless he wants Coach to find out about the 'helpers' he takes, he'll back off. Jackson snarls one more time to stay away from Lydia, which Stiles ignores because if he's lucky, by the end of the week he'll be home and all of this will be over.

 He waits for a long time after school, partly to explain to Scott why the hell he'd been talking to Lydia Martin and partly because he's too nervous to just run down there. Finally, he convinces Scott he owes Jackson some money and thought he might earn some as Lydia' personal shopper for a few weeks. It's a weak sort of lie, but it works, and practice is in full swing by the time he stumbles up the bleachers and sits next to her.

 "You're late." she says flatly without looking up from her phone.

 "There wasn't really a set time to be here." Stiles argues. She raises an eyebrow at him. "Alright, fine, I'm late. I'm sorry."

 "How the hell do you know I speak Latin?"

 "Could you live without the whole truth?"

 She puts her phone away and directs all her attention at him, the answer obvious on her face.

 "You aren't going to believe me." he sighs. "But magic is sort of real."

 She starts laughing. "Oh my god, you're higher than a fucking kite right now."

 He pulls out his phone and flips to the video he'd forced Derek to record, handing it over when it starts to play. Lydia watches it, at first dismissive and then shocked and then annoyed. "So you're a video geek." she says. "Anyone can photoshop that."

 "I can have him do it in real time, if it'll help."

 That seems to get her attention. "You're serious? That guy turns into— _that?_ "

 "Werewolf. Yeah."

 "You're insane."

 "That's not really the insane part." He winces. "The insane part is that there's a rogue witch with a book that could potentially end the whole world. And it's all because I somehow ended up in the wrong universe."

 She stares at him for the longest time before saying anything. Finally, she looks down at her lap, where his phone is still sitting, frozen on Derek's wolf form. "I feel like I shouldn't believe you."

 Stiles leans forward. "But?"

 "But I do. Don't ask me why, but I do."

 "So you'll help me?"

 "I don't know why you need my help. This seems pretty out of my league."

 Stiles shakes his head. "That's just it. In my world, this _is_ your league. You'd have this all figured out already if this were my universe."

 Lydia grins. "I sound badass."

 "You are badass." Stiles confirms.

 "So...what do you need me to do?"

 "The book the witch stole, it's in Latin. But it's part of a series, kind of like a set of weird encyclopedias. Meaning that everything in the book is alphabetical."

 "So you want me to read the last entry in the book before it and the first entry in the book after."

 "And help us come up with a list of what's between." Stiles confirms.

 She hands his phone back. "I guess I don't really have anything better to do."

 Stiles smiles. "Really?"

 "Where are we doing this?"

 "At the vet's office. Long story short, he's the thief's brother and also a kind of witch."

 "Sure, why not?" Lydia mutters.

 "He thinks between you being able to read the Latin books and him being able to read the Gaelic ones, we should be able to come up with a list of what was in the stolen book."

 "And then what?"

 "And then we find whatever on that list is powerful enough to move me between universes."

 Lydia rolls her eyes, but not really at him. More like she's chastising herself for asking. "Fine. What time should I be there?"

 "As soon as you can be."

 "I'll be there after practice." she says. "Which gets over in about twenty minutes, so you should probably go before Jackson gets a hold of you."

 "Good plan." Stiles agrees. "So, you'll come? You'll help?"

 Lydia nods. "I'll be there."

 Stiles does a little cheer and then falters before kissing her forehead, like he might at home. But he doesn't, and the way she's looking at him says he made the right choice. He nods and takes off.

 He's twenty feet away when Scott catches him, wheezing uncontrollably. "Whoa, buddy, wha—"

 " _Werewolves?_ " he gasps, eyes about to pop out of his skull.

 Stiles sighs. "Shit."

 "Werewolves...are... _real?_ And...you..."

 "Take your inhaler, buddy." Stiles says, already grabbing it from his backpack.

 Scott takes it from him and takes two puffs, staring at him the whole time and vibrating with questions. When he can breathe again, he puts Stiles' rambling to shame. "Since when is magic real? Since when are werewolves real? How do you know about all of this? And who _are_ you? Are you really in the wrong universe? How do you even know—"

 "I will gladly explain this to you, but not in a school parking lot." Stiles compromises.

 "I'm coming with you to the vet's."

 "What? Scott, no."

" _Yes_. You are going to explain all of this to me, in detail. And I want to help."

 "Scotty, you can't read Latin."

 "Neither can you. I want to be there. We're brothers, remember?"

 Stiles curses himself silently, and then sighs. "Yeah. Yeah, we're brothers. Alright, fine. You can come."

 Scott cheers. Stiles rolls his eyes at him, but he's really too relieved to care.

***

 "So you're a girl?"

 "I'm transgender." Stiles corrects. "I was assigned female at birth, but I'm a dude, through and through. And a gay one, at that."

 "Weird." Scott mutters, wrapping his head around first a female Stiles and then a transgender one. "So, what do you do about...you know..." He actually gestures to Stiles' chest and then his own crotch.

 "I wear a binder for my boobs, even though they're fairly small anyway. And I have a packer for this." He points to his dick. "Of course, it's just for appearances sake. I haven't gotten surgery or anything yet."

 "I can't imagine getting a surgery to put on a penis." Scott admits, looking a bit faint.

 "Luckily, you don't have to."

 Scott nods, and then a few seconds later launches into "So I'm a werewolf where you're from?"

 "Yeah." Stiles chuckles. "And a pretty good one."

 "And Derek—the scary dude—he's alpha?"

 "Yeah. But you're kind of his second."

 " _Dude_. That's so _cool_."

 "I can't believe I'd let someone who says that be my second in command." Derek drawls, drawing their attention back to the fact there's three other people in this room.

 "Oh, you totally love Scott." Stiles informs him. "It's the grossest form of puppy love I've ever seen."

 "Wait, am I gay?" Scott gasps.

 Derek rolls his eyes and goes back to ignoring them. "No, you aren't." Stiles chuckles. "It's just...you're sort of like Derek's little brother. And he's grossly proud of you, like, all the time."

 Scott grins at that, warm and happy with the praise.

 "I think that's it." Lydia suddenly says, looking weary. "That's all I have, anyway."

 "I think you're right." Deaton agrees, equally exhausted. "If it's not on this list, very few people are aware of its existence."

 "That's our cue." Stiles says, standing and looking over their compiled notes. "So now we just have to read through these and figure out which one is the one we're looking for."

 "That should be easy." Derek mutters sarcastically.

 "Easier than what they just did." Scott says, ever the optimist. Derek glares at him.

 "Thanks for helping, Lydia." Stiles says, waving with his stack of papers. "It means a lot."

 "Oh, I'm not going anywhere." Lydia informs him, a sudden burst of energy coming through her. "I'm seeing this through until the end. How many chances am I going to get to be part of this in my world?"

 Stiles fights off a grin and nods. Then he, Scott, and Derek set off looking through each list and researching the creatures, looking for any sort that might be able to switch Stiles from one universe to the other.

 Scott comes up with a million different questions for all sorts of the creatures, which Deaton answers tiredly. Derek snaps at him more than once that if it doesn't have to do with the current problem to not worry about it, but it doesn't stop Scott from asking.

 They each come up with a few possibilities, but they're all quickly dismissed. Sorcerers, while drawing magic from a deep archaic force, don't generally have the ability to channel that much at a time. Djinn are briefly considered, but ultimately dismissed. Stiles tells them he hadn't wished on any weird falling stars or made a deal with any sort of mystery woman, which cuts out astronomical events and demon deals. He hadn't eaten any food he'd found in the woods or followed strange music into the forest, or gone swimming in a reflective pool.

 They're at it for a few hours before Scott perks up. "What about this?"

 Everyone leans over to look at what he's pointing at, and then they all look at Deaton. Deaton opens and closes his mouth for a few times before admitting "I've never considered that."

 "Changelings." Lydia mumbles. "I thought they only took and replaced children?"

 "That's the general consensus." Deaton agrees, but he still looks spooked. "But if they wanted something..."

 "Stiles, where do you stand in the pack?" Derek demands.

 "Uh, I don't know. Near Scott, I guess."

 "They wanted an in." Derek guesses.

 "So they took Stiles and permanently removed him from the universe, so as not to risk his pack finding the real him." Deaton concludes. "Of course, they can't just create a universe for you, so they had to find one where you currently existed and replace you there."

 "So where's the one from here?"

 Deaton considers this for a moment. "Well, inter-dimensional travel must not be easy. I imagine moving an entire body between must be tough. They must of replaced just your consciousness."

 "That doesn't explain where the consciousness for _this_ body is." Stiles reminds him.

 "They probably killed him." Derek says bluntly.

 Stiles feels faint. Scott doesn't look so hot, either. "So, if he goes back..." Scott mumbles.

 There's a long awkward silence, where everyone is considering their reality. And then Deaton moves forward to pile on more bad news. "There's also a fair chance they've either destroyed your body or filled it with another consciousness. So as to prevent you from coming back to it."

 "So there really isn't a way for me to get home." Stiles concludes quietly.

 "There is some good news." Deaton says, but it doesn't sound like it's going to be anything that will actually cheer them up. "Marin won't get what she wants. Changelings don't have the kind of power she was looking for, and they're not exactly friendly."

 The office lapses into silence. Stiles is pretty sure they're waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't really know what else to say. So he doesn't say anything. He jumps a little when Scott grabs his arm. "Still got me, buddy."

 Stiles grins weakly and nods. "Yeah, you're right." But when Scott hugs him he finds his eyes dragging over to Derek, who isn't looking at him but seems to be radiating just as much hopelessness as Stiles is. He closes his eyes and decides not to think about it anymore.

***

 Two months later, Stiles is okay with where he's at. He's not ecstatic, he still breaks down sometimes in the middle of the night or when he's talking to Scott and makes an inside joke that doesn't exist here. But other than that, it's okay. He has his mom, he gets his grades up to mostly B's—all except for Harris's class—and he still has his best friend.

 It is a lot like being stuck in sophomore year, though. They're wildly unpopular, even more so now that Stiles has exiled himself by doing drugs for most of the year. But he has plans for using the summer to finally get his license back and convince his mom to let him and Scott take a weekend to go camping or something.

 On June  1st, a huge system of storms pops up off the coast and roll in. Beacon Hills becomes the epicenter of rain. The streets are constantly covered by a couple of inches of water anymore. Raincoat sales rocket. Stiles' mom tells him under no circumstances is he allowed to practice driving until the rain clears out, so he's stuck walking back and forth to Scott's or having Scott come to him. They eventually get used to it, but it still sucks.

 Stiles is waiting for Scott to show up one day, a little nervous with the way the weather is behaving. But Scott had assured him he could do it, even if the wind had picked up tremendously in the past few days. So when there's a knock on the door, Stiles is expecting a drenched and far too chipper Scott to come chattering in.

 Instead, it's Derek, who is wearing his usual jeans and leather jacket and is consequently _drenched_. Stiles blinks twice before moving aside to let him in. "Do you need a place to stay?" he asks, thinking about how tough it must be living out in the woods when the woods are mostly swampland right now.

 "This storm is Marin's doing." Derek says, just barely a step inside the door. "She's ripping a hole in the dimensions. We don't know how she did it, but she's somehow managed to channel enough power."

 Stiles stares at him for so long that Scott shows up. "Whoa, Derek. Hey. You should really invest in a raincoat."

 "So what does this mean?" Stiles finally blurts, ignoring Scott.

 "It means that this storm is the beginning of the end of this universe."

 "I missed something." Scott decides.

 "Marin figured out how to open a door between dimensions, but it's going to cost the rest of the universe." Stiles sums up, grabbing his shoes and coat. "Let's go."

 The three of them run through the vicious wind and rain to get to Deaton's. Lydia is already there, damp but mostly dry because she had a car. They're both pouring over books, Deaton only briefly pausing to glance up when they enter.

 "Any luck?" Derek asks.

 "Not so far." Deaton sighs.

 Stiles grabs at a book. "What are we looking for?"

 "This amount of power is unprecedented." Deaton explains. "She's a druid, she can't hold it all herself. So she has to be using some sort of other conductors."

 "We're trying to figure out which conductors." Lydia finishes.

 "If we can figure out what kind of power she's tapping into, we can shut it down."

 "Well, what kind of conductors _could_ she use?" Scott asks.

 "Crystals, rocks, plants, weapons, people..." Lydia lists, rubbing her eyes.

 "Wait. Plants?" Stiles looks up. "I know where she is."

 "Where?"

 "The nemeton." Stiles looks at Deaton for confirmation, but he just looks confused. "You know, the nemeton? The beacon of Beacon Hills?"

 "I know what a nemeton is, but I was unaware there was one nearby."

 Stiles has a million questions about that, but he pushes them aside and explains. "It's a powerhouse of supernatural energy. There's one south of town. It was cut down in my universe, but maybe it hasn't been here. And if it hasn't, if she's somehow tapped into it..."

 "Let's go." Derek orders, pointing at Lydia. "You, drive."

 All the humans pile into the car, while Derek shifts and bolts off into the woods. The drive is tense, because everyone feels like they aren't going fast enough, but they all know they're going as fast as they can. They're finally only a mile or so away when the lightning cracks across the road, sending Lydia spinning. They careen off the road and slam against a tree. There's a dizzying moment where Stiles checks to make sure he's alive before looking to make sure everyone else is. "Guys? Are you okay?"

 "I am." Scott breathes, nodding but looking very white. "I—I'm okay."

 "My door is stuck." Deaton informs them, sounding more emotive than Stiles had ever heard. "It's dented in, I can't get it open."

 "Lyds?" Stiles prompts, unbuckling and leaning forward. Her eyes are wide, her mouth gaping and her hands tight on the steering wheel. "Lydia? Lydia, are you—"

 "I saw—I saw us. I saw us dying." she breathes.

 Stiles takes a moment to understand what she's saying, but before he can explain, another bolt of lightning strikes close enough it sounds like the whip of Thor. Then he hears Derek howling.

 "I have to help him." Stiles says. "Stay here."

 "No way." Scott argues, unbuckling himself. "We're in this together."

 "Deaton, deal with Lydia." Stiles orders. "The nemeton isn't very far. Just run that way." He points towards trees.

 He and Scott climb out of the car on his side and then take off into the rain. It's not as bad in the trees, but it's still enough that the ground is goop, making them stumble and fall more than once.  They get close enough that Stiles can see the tree, which is indeed still standing, and the crackling of electricity around it. "There! That's it!"

 They just break the clearing when Scott trips over a root and goes down hard. Stiles turns back to help him, but Derek snarls at the same moment from somewhere on the other side of the tree. Scott waves. "Go..." he wheezes. "Need...to...catch...breath... _go_."

 So Stiles turns and races around the crackling tree, coming up behind Marin, who is in a wide stance facing Derek in his wolf form. She's holding something, but Stiles can't really see what. He makes a split second decision and charges forward, taking her straight to the ground in a surprising show of strength. She struggles, eventually rolling him so she's on top, though he's still got a bit of an advantage on her by being able to hold her to the ground.

 That's when lightning strikes the tree just next to them, the noise so loud it make Stiles' ears ring. He let's go to cover his ears, which gives Marin the chance to get up. When he gets his bearing, she's struggling with Derek over an amulet of some kind. Stiles stands up, ready to charge again, when the wood splits next to him and a light bursts from it.

 "You can't stop it!" Marin screams at Derek, who snarls in response. "This universe is over, whether I go through that door or not!"

 Stiles grabs a branch that had shaken out of one of the trees and takes a good swing, hitting her straight in the ribs. She goes down with a gross wail, giving Derek the amulet in the process. Stiles grins at him, letting the branch fall from his hands. Marin makes a weak struggle to stand up again and then passes out.

 "Stiles."

 Stiles turns and sees Scott, Lydia, and Deaton. "We've got the amulet!" he yells over the storm.

 "You heard her, Stiles." Deaton says. "It's too late."

 "What?" Stiles shakes his head, but the wood splits again, more light bursting forth. There's some sort of vortex coming from it, sucking in loose leaves and twigs. Even Stiles can feel the wind leading into it.

 "She said this place was dying whether or not she went through." Derek says from behind him. He turns again, looking at the amulet Derek has stretched out to him. His brain barely registers the fact he's naked. It does, but barely.

 "You can go home." Scott says, Stiles swiveling to see they've come closer, surrounded him in a circle.

 "I—but you said my body probably wasn't there, anymore. What then?"

 "This door isn't just for consciousness. She was going to bring her whole person with her. That must be what the amulet is for." Deaton explains.

 "We can stop it." Stiles tries again.

 "No," Lydia says, smiling sadly. "We can't."

 "Go home, Stiles." Scott says, even while hauling him in for a hug. "Don't let the other me get stuck with some shitty fake Stiles."

 Stiles is happy it's raining so hard. It's easier to pretend he isn't crying then. When Scott let's him go, Lydia is next. He's surprised, but he sinks into her grip, too. "Tell me that I'm a badass." she orders when she steps back. "Make sure I know."

 "I will."

 He nods at Deaton, and then turns to Derek, who loops the amulet around his neck. He takes a deep breath and nods, but Derek doesn't move to let go. Finally, he sighs and closes his eyes. "You aren't as annoying to me as you think you are."

 Stiles nods again, hugging him and ignoring the nakedness. "I'm not going anywhere, big guy. One of you is always going to be stuck with me." Stiles promises.

 The wood splits again, this time the ground shaking with it. Everyone stumbles, and a few trees creak as they lean dangerously towards the door. Stiles carefully makes his way over, turning to take one last look at them, at this other family he's made for himself. Then he salutes and steps through.

***

 Stiles is used to waking up and feeling out of place in his skin. The tingling is new, as is the leaf stuck to his cheek and the amulet digging into his sternum, but it is what it is. He takes a few minutes to breathe, to just cherish the fact he _is_ breathing, and then he opens his eyes. He's laying on the stump of the nemeton, in the middle of the woods, which are way quieter than the ones he just left.

 He sits up and feels across his chest, but it's the same chest he'd had a few seconds ago. He cups his groin and jumps a little when he feels he still has a dick. So, either Deaton was right and the body came with him, or he's in another fucked up universe.

 Either way, he has a pack to find.

 He runs as fast as he can into town, straight to Derek's loft. He can hear some people inside, but it's muffled by the walls. He rattles the door handle and everyone goes silent. After a moment, the door opens, and Scott—short haired, buffed up, clearly a werewolf Scott—is on the other side.

 Stiles sobs. He can't help it. He throws himself on Scott and cries like a child, laughing hysterically between hiccups. Then he pulls back, to where Scott is staring at him like he's grown another head. He's pretty sure he'd have noticed that in the body check, though. "There is so much explaining that needs to be done, but I am so happy to see you."

 Scott keeps staring at him.

 "Who's at the door?"

 He stills at the sound of his old voice. He pushes past Scott, suddenly full of fury. Scott, still shocked, let's him. Behind him is the entire pack; Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Allison, Lydia, Derek, and himself. Only it's a slightly more feminine version of himself. The Changeling had got nothing wrong. Its hair was the way he kept it, it wore the same style clothes, it had even packed its jeans and worn a binder. Stiles could just see the outlines of them if he looked hard enough.

 Everyone but his mirror image stands, tensed up for battle but not actually ready to engage. Apparently even they could sense he wasn't just anyone.

 "You took my body from me." Stiles says to the Changeling. "Along with a few other things."

 "What?" the Changeling squeaks, looking horrified. "What the hell is—"

 "You know, I bet you're real damn surprised to see me." Stiles allows. "I'll admit, it was fairly fucking impossible to get back here. I'd even given up. But here I am. The question is, are you going to go quietly or are we going to have a showdown?"

 The Changeling's expression never changes. "Guys, what are you doing? Kill this thing!"

 "When's Scott's birthday?" Stiles demands of the Changeling. There's a flicker of anger that crosses its face, but it's only for a millisecond.

 "Guys!" it screeches, scrambling backwards.

 "His _birthday,_ scumbag." Stiles snarls, stalking forward after it. "Go ahead. Tell him his birthday. Or come clean, tell them what you really are. Tell them you're a Changeling. Tell them how you took my consciousness and threw it into another dimension."

 The Changeling's features falter, its anger causing a shift in its disguise. Stiles sees a flicker of something hollow and gray before it's just his old self glaring at him. "I'd say I'm impressed, but I'm not. It did take you a quarter of a year. And I bet you took that whole universe down in the process."

 "That's a _Changeling?_ " Erica snaps, looking ready to break someone's neck.

 "And what do you think you'll do about it?" the Changeling taunts her. "Going to stick your little claws in me? I could've killed any one of you at any point in these last few months, but I wasn't allowed. Now, I suppose I have little choice." It looks at Stiles. "You, though. You'll live. Everyone you love will be dead, but you'll get to live and realize you killed your only reason for destroying that place."

 Scott charges first, but the Changeling dodges and gets an elbow between his shoulders, dropping him to the floor. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd all go in together, which has the Changeling on edge for all of a minute. Then Stiles watches it swipe Isaac to the floor, uppercut Erica, and dislocate Boyd's shoulder. It has them all in a heap in seconds, breathing heavily but not looking the least bit tired. It turns to look at the rest of them. "Next?"

 Derek starts to move forward, but Stiles holds up a hand to stop him. The Changeling, which had braced itself, grins. "Aw, what a good boy. He does listen well for us, doesn't he?"

 "You know you've lost." Stiles reminds him. "You failed. I'm back. You'll never have my spot. Why are you still here?"

 "Because now it's about revenge." it purrs, flashing sharp teeth. "Now it's about putting you in your place, and reminding you to stay there."

 "His place is here." Derek growls.

 The Changeling rolls its eyes. "God, don't tell me you're going to be all heartbroken now that you know these last four months weren't real. I mean, really, Derek. How pathetic is that?"

 Stiles hears Lydia whispering behind him, but the Changeling doesn't seem to notice, too focused on the way Derek's snarling at him. To buy them time, Stiles steps forward. "The only pathetic one is you." he blurts lamely. "I mean, you need to go around and steal other people's faces because you're so fucking ugly."

 The Changeling is _not_ amused by that. It dives forward and takes Stiles down, sharp teeth _way_ too close to Stiles for comfort. He manages to hold it back just far enough that it's not chewing on his skin, but that's a small comfort. There's a sound of something creaking and breaking and the Changeling looks up. A knife whizzes in out of nowhere and hits it straight in the forehead. It growls, standing and ripping the knife from its skull and stalking towards the girls. Then, Derek swoops in and runs it through with a curved metal rod.

 The Changeling screeches and shrivels back into a gray, leathery-skinned creature, it's eyes little beads of black that go dull when it finally stops moving and Derek drops it to the floor.

 "Holy crap." Stiles breathes. He looks at Lydia and Allison. "Good shot, Alli."

 "Thanks." she giggles faintly.

 He looks towards Derek, then sees the missing chunk of his staircase behind him. He turns to look at Lydia then.

 "Iron hurts fairies." Lydia explains, looking a little pale.

 Stiles sighs, chuckling. "This reminds me, I have a message of you from the other Lydia. She said to tell you that you are a total badass."

***

 "Hey."

 Derek looks up from his book, clearly not surprised that Stiles was there. It wasn't like he couldn't smell or hear him come in. But still, he gives the illusion of not knowing it was him. "Hey."

 "I think we should talk." Stiles eventually says, sitting on the opposite side of the couch from him.

 "About what?"

 "About what the Changeling said." It's been a couple weeks already, but things seem to be getting pretty back to normal. Stiles sometimes has a hard time looking at old pictures of Scott, but then he sees Scott now and can't help but just feel grateful for his best friend, in every universe.

 Derek's really the only one who's been acting weird, and he's been doing it by acting perfectly normal. Like, freakishly so. He practically ignores the fact Stiles had been in a whole separate universe for four months, and that he had been dating a Changeling version of him back here. Scott had told him the truth awkwardly towards the beginning of his return, but Stiles figured they both needed time to come to terms with things. Like the fact Stiles has a new body, that is 100% man.

 "The Changeling said a lot of things." Derek reminds him, still acting clueless.

 Stiles thinks back to his mom's words, about how she couldn't just say things to his dad. About how she had to be sneaky. So Stiles nods. "Yeah, that's true. I think it mentioned something about you listening well, though? Like, I think that's a little unfair. You never listen to _me_ me. Was it just more concise? Less annoying?"

 "It was just as annoying." Derek rolls his eyes. "It just said that to get under my skin."

 "I don't know if I believe that." Stiles sniffs. "I mean, I have things to say that are just as important as whatever it said."

 "I know that."

 "So why don't you listen to _me?_ "

 "I _do_ listen to you." Derek argues, frowning.

 "Yeah, right. Bet you can't even tell me what my favorite pizza is."

 "Sausage." Derek grinds out. "But only because you like to make people uncomfortable when you eat it."

 "Just because it's an immature joke doesn't mean it isn't funny."

 "It _isn't_ funny."

 "So now I'm not funny, either?"

 "I didn't—"

 "I bet you don't even like me that much." Stiles sighs woefully.

 "Of course I like you." Derek snaps. "I wouldn't have dated that stupid thing if I didn't think it was you."

 Stiles smiles. "Really?"

 "Of course, really." Derek huffs, rolling his shoulders and glaring at the book in his lap. "I know my track record isn't the best, but I don't go actively go searching for murderous monsters."

 "I know." Stiles comforts. He lets the comment sink in before continuing with "You just have that bad boy charm they're so attracted to."

 Derek snorts, shaking his head.

 "Look, I'm not going to make any more uncomfortable than usual." Stiles promises. "If you don't want to date me, you don't, but you should know that I, too, am attracted to the bad boy charm." Derek glances up at him from under his eyelashes. Stiles grins softly. "Mostly because I know it's a big scam."

 Derek rolls his eyes again.

 "There are a few things you should know, though." Stiles admits carefully. "The first one being that I have a whole different body now. There are things that aren't there anymore, and other things that have appeared."

 "We didn't—the Changeling and I, that is...we never...did anything."

 Stiles grins. "That's good. I didn't want you seeing my body like that, anyway. It wasn't the one I was going to end up in."

 "I liked it." Derek shrugs. Then, shyly "Because it was yours."

 Stiles bites his lip, but he can't stop himself from laughing. "Oh my god, that was so cute. I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, I loved it, it was just so adorable." Stiles grabs his head and lifts it up so he's looking at him. "It was a good laugh, I promise."

 "I know." Derek agrees.

 "I'm gonna kiss you, okay?"

 Derek doesn't wait. Instead he leans forward first, fitting their lips together smoothly. Stiles sighs, something settling inside him, and moves closer. When Derek moves back, it's not very far. "You kiss better than it did." he tells him.

 "I better." Stiles mutters, kissing him again. When he sits back, Derek puts a hand on his thigh, just to keep contact. "You know, you were a huge jerk to me back in that other universe."

 "Did I even know you?" Derek asks, amused.

 "Not at first. You learned quickly, though. And you told me your deepest, darkest secret." Stiles feels a little suspicious about the look of horror that crosses Derek's face, but he decides that's a conversation for much, much later. "He told me you didn't think I was annoying."

 "He lied." Derek says, even though he's grinning. Stiles smiles back and kisses him again, pushing him back onto the couch so he can climb on top of him. He'd imagined this. Of course he had. He'd imagined kissing Derek dozens of times. But it feels a lot nicer than he thought it would. It's not rough, or hurried, or some sort of last-chance-before-we-die thing. Derek lets him take his time, his hands resting easily on his waist, like they don't have to worry about anything in the world.

 Suddenly, he pulls back. "You know, this doesn't mean I'm easy. I'm a wine-and-dine type of guy. Virgin status aside, I have standards."

 "Would you settle for Netflix and an extra large sausage pizza?"

 Stiles grins. "I got your extra large sausage right here." he sneers, cackling when Derek groans and turning his face into the back of the couch. "You walked into it!"

 "I walked into something." Derek agrees with a sigh, looking back at him fondly. "Something loud and annoying."

 "And funny." Stiles adds. "And ripped as hell."

 "Sure."

 "I did a lot of walking in that other universe, Derek. You'd be surprised."

 Derek chuckles. "I don't think you'll ever cease to surprise me, Stiles."

 "Well," Stiles agrees. "Some things never change."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!  
> [My tumblr!](http://www.thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com)


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